


The Things That Never End

by firecube



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-anime canon, but that’s because Munakata talks (and thinks) way too high-level, me abusing commas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:10:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecube/pseuds/firecube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Munakata couldn’t help watching Suoh’s back as he walked away, eventually disappearing betwixt the buildings, the vehicles, the people . . . all slowly crumbling in their own wake.<br/>“No . . . something tells me we’ll never be ‘done . . .’”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: K Project and its characters belong to GoRa.

“‘Cause it’s impossible to tell what you’re thinking.” 

Suoh flicked his lighter twice more before pocketing it, lit the cigarette stuck in his mouth with a mere flick of the thumb.  The consistent flicking of the lighter seemed to be a consoling habit at the most, but was the denial of its use an outright arrogant display that he didn’t need it? 

 _A minor offence, but still an abuse of power all the same,_ Munakata mused.

The smoke ascended, swirling upwards between the two men like a noxious veil separating their views of the world.

Munakata gratuitously adjusted his frameless glasses (a habit of his own), keeping the customary nonaligned, business-like expression on his features, but not taking any extensive amount of effort to conceal his exasperation, only primarily making sure to tone it down considerably.  He wanted to keep the initiative in this row, but Suoh kept that unceasing blank, I-don’t-care expression no matter what Munakata might have said. 

In theory, this man was denying Munakata of gaining anything through the use of words.  Nothing seemed to faze him. 

They were somewhat alike in that respect.

 Munakata made note to discard this thought into the deepest recesses of his subconscious (because you can't truly _delete_ a thought, right? His mind was like the hard drive of a computer, or so the world saw it that way, and, as far as Munakata dared concern himself, his functions were as focused and unbiased as those of a machine.) and never proceed to make any mention of it and replied, “I quite strongly believe that I am allocated the liberty not to reveal whatever thoughts that are processed in my mind, Suoh Mikoto.  I also believe that you are straying from the subject of the matter at hand.  I have made attempt to make my intentions and my statements of them to you clear and comprehensible, so I regret to say that I fail to grasp how you could be lacking any information needed from myself in order to properly respond to my proposal.  Now, would you care for another opportunity to properly respond to my inquiry, Third and Red King Suoh Mikoto?”

The extensive use of words, along with the subtlest hint of mockery in his final sentence, the slightest of an increase in the wideness of that politician-smile that would have easily gone unnoticed by the oblivious and would have easily suggested a smirk to keen eyes, and the implementation of Suoh’s full title, still had no effect whatsoever.

 Munakata wasn’t expecting one, but he assumed the man would at least provide a clear rebuttal to the Blue King’s request to walk away from this battered, corrupted subdivision (which was truly only hanging by a thread, indifferently teetering off the edge of a cliff, quite a Sword of Damocles in its own right, why did Suoh so desire it as part of his territory anyway?) without an all-out battle between HOMRA and SCEPTER 4. 

That was the least a person could ask for, right?  Not an “I agree,” just a clear, blunt “I refuse.”

Suoh narrowed his amber eyes slightly, although his gaze into Munakata’s violet ones was anything but intent or even interested. He tilted his head back a little and released a white cloud of cigarette smoke from his lungs, watching it almost fondly as it rose up, expanded, and seemed to dissipate in the sky and against the slight breeze which lightly breathed over this strange mixture of tenseness and relaxedness between the two Kings.

Munakata vaguely found himself wondering if what Suoh Mikoto enjoyed was the way the smoke polluted the air around him, the air he breathed, and his own insides.  Did the man’s soft upwards gaze express some form of spiteful self-loathing, subconscious though it may be?  Munakata quickly shook the strange elaboration away.  He was no Sigmund Freud, was no form of shrink at all, so why bother psychoanalyzing some man who obviously cared about absolutely nothing?

_And, in all reality, it is not as if ones such as us would have any compulsory recourse in the way of the slightest concern aroused from the deleteriousness of cigarette smoke—exclusively, ones such as us…_

The other man lowered his head, briefly closing his eyes to render a sigh that was half-growl.  “Y’know you’re making this more work than it should be . . .”

Munakata clicked his tongue and adopted a condescending expression, fake smile more or less gone now, crossing his arms across his person in a manner as if to further convey his patronization.  “Ah, so you would rather that we just spare each other the sentiments and I go ahead and kill you, Suoh?”

The Red King locked eyes with Munakata now, with fiery intensity that clarified that the man was more than a detached thug, that he was indeed _someone_.  Someone who would certainly have no qualms about being as violent as he deemed necessary.  And overall, he was a King.  “Maybe if you _could._ ”

A typical rebuff.  But the feral growl with which Suoh produced the words, along with the searing rage barely repressed reflected through those amber eyes, was enough to cause Munakata to hold back a shudder.

He was thinking of what would be most appropriate and efficient to use as a response when the Red King continued in his usual slow monotone, “You _change_ it.  First, it’s ‘do I find it a reasonable proposal?’ then, ‘is there any chance I’ll agree to the proposal?’ then, ‘so am I implying a refusal?’ ‘Why can't I give you a straight answer?’ ‘Do I want another opportunity to answer?’ And now it’s ‘want you to get to the point and kill me?’  Talking is really just too much trouble.  Don’t wanna answer all that, it’s more ‘n enough work just to list them out to get my point across.”

Munakata titled his head to the side slightly, feigning amusement.  He was secretly surprised to find himself increasingly curious about the man so much that he was beyond annoyance.  Not that his job allowed such a thing as annoyance, anyways; he was always just carrying out his work without incident . . . 

“In that case, I believe you could have responded with a simple ‘No’ to my initial question.  Your flagrant obstinacy is no fault of mine.”

Suoh let out a gruff “Hmm. . .,” taking a meditative drag off his cigarette as he analyzed Munakata’s face.

All the detachment and disinterest he had displayed throughout the extent of their conversation was nonexistent now, replaced by a vivid flicker of childish curiosity not unlike that which was naturally characteristic of Munakata himself.  And Munakata himself was evidently the curio of ignition for the Red King’s interest.

“You enjoy this, huh?”

Munakata just gazed incredulously at Suoh for a second before he processed the fact that the other was waiting on his response.  So he replied, coolly, “Enjoy?  Enjoy an attempt to talk reason into the head of a thick-skulled barbarian?  Hardly.  Incidentally, I am speaking to you now because it is my job as the leader of SCEPTER 4 to put down this conflict your clan has caused using as little violence as possible.  But, regretfully, it appears that the Red Clan has every intention of—“

“Making this place our turf,” Suoh cut in flatly.  “I think we’re done here.”

His cigarette dropped unceremoniously from his mouth to the cold, damp concrete where he stomped it out under the thick sole of his battered black tennis shoe.  He gazed at the cancer stick as smoke continued to feebly trail from the small embers, as if it was fighting for air throughout the process of suffocation.  And that same fond-like glance…

And with that, the Red King abruptly turned his broad shoulders to the Blue King, nonchalantly trotted along on his way seemingly indifferent to . . . well . . . the complexities of life, or something of the sort.  (Munakata loathed being at a loss for the proper words.)

Munakata couldn’t help watching Suoh’s back as he walked away, eventually disappearing betwixt the buildings, the vehicles, the people . . . all slowly crumbling in their own wake.

“No . . . something tells me we’ll _never_ be ‘done . . .’”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short, drabble-y conclusion to how the matter Munakata was trying to discuss turned out.

It was some days after the inevitable clash that had ensued between Red and Blue…

A somewhat inconceivable arrangement had been worked out amongst the two Kings, mostly due to the efforts of their second-in-hands, SCEPTER 4’s Awashima Seri and HOMRA’s Kusanagi Izumo. It most certainly did not arise from any arbitration with the Red King himself.

The way things worked out, HOMRA had the leave of proclaiming the subdivision to be their territory, which meant other gangs (small fry in the eyes of SCEPTER 4, those who were not beholden to the powers of a King and held no comprehension of such powers) no longer had any hold on it. This turned out to be beneficial to SCEPTER 4, whose goal, as Japan’s – or, in truth, the world’s – most substantial law enforcement agency, was to bring a higher level of order back to the place for the good of the residents, or so Awashima had expounded to Kusanagi. And Kusanagi, smooth-talking barman that he was, explained that HOMRA would more than welcome the opportunity for renovations in the area.

Of course, it was a compromise for both sides. The subdivision was still in the clutches of HOMRA, who all the while agreed to cooperate alongside of SCEPTER 4 for the good of the area.

When Munakata thought about it all, the entire thing was laughable. Turning the incidences over in his head various times to a point that would have been far past mental exhaustion for most, the “somewhat inconceivable arrangement” meant nothing at all but a ceasefire, sugarcoated by tawdry avowals of reciprocity.

So, just what was the purpose of the _fighting_? Considering the fashion in which the conflict had been concluded, the violence was ultimately – no, _initially_ – superfluous. It made Munakata feel like a fool. He told himself that he didn’t like the way Suoh Mikoto made him feel, although it was truly his own incessant musings that fueled his awareness of the folly of his world’s scheme.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Yeesh, long, fancy sentences. Sometimes I can't help myself when I’m writing Munakata’s POV.  
> “. . . any compulsory recourse in the way of the slightest concern aroused from the deleteriousness of cigarette smoke . . .” is the line I think I worked the hardest on, to sound ceremonious but still like something somebody might actually say.  
> I guess I just wanted to express how Munakata’s mind works, that even when he’s thinking to himself, his mind never shuts down so he can easily string together sentences like that and wouldn’t have it otherwise. So he thinks this way instead of something like, “not a single reason to be worried about the harmfulness of cigarette smoke.”


End file.
